But he had not sunk so low as that.
Besides, he had already worked out in his versatile head a plan that seemed practicable, albeit utterly audacious.

Cornelia was at Baiae.
Cornelia owed him a great debt of gratitude for saving Drusus.
Cornelia might harbour Artemisia as a new maid, if he could contrive to get his charge over the hundred long miles that lay between Rome and Baiae.
In the street he made Artemisia draw her mantle over her pretty face, and pressed through the crowds as fast as he could drag her onward.
Quickly as he might he left the noisy Subura behind, and led on toward the Palatine.

At length he turned in toward a large house, and by a narrow alley reached a garden gate, and gained admission to the rear.
By his confident movements he showed himself familiar with the spot.
The dwelling, as a matter of fact, was that of Calatinus.
As Agias pushed open the gate, and led Artemisia into a little garden enclosed with a high stone wall, he surprised a dapper-appearing young slave-lad of about his age, who was lying idly on the tiny grass plot, and indulging in a solitary game of backgammon.[129] [129] _Duodecim scripta_.
"_Hem!_ Iasus," was Agias's salutation, "can you do an old friend a favour ?" Iasus sprang to his feet, with eyes, nose, and mouth wide open.

He turned red, turned white, turned red once more.
"_Phy!_" cried the other; "you aren't so silly as to take me for a shade from Hades?
I've as much strength and muscle as you." "Agias!" blurted out Iasus, "are you alive?
Really alive?
They didn't beat you to death! I am so glad! You know--" "_St!_" interrupted Agias.

"You did, indeed, serve me an awkward trick some time since; but who can blame you for wanting to save your own skin.